


Submission

by BRNZ



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Crowley, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BRNZ/pseuds/BRNZ
Summary: Aziraphale has neglected taking care of his wings in moult, Crowley has to take him firmly in hand.  Alcohol, tongues, kissing, wings and an angel being a bit of a bratty bottom.  SO MUCH ANGST!!OrIts my first GO fic and OMG I cannot get the parade of these two character having sex in multiple ways out of my brain!





	1. In which nothing is alright at all

The angel had been unusually grumpy and short tempered for the last couple of weeks. So much so that he had turned down invites to lunch and dinner. Crowley was concerned, an angel off his food was a serious matter, something that had never happened before. Tonight he was going to get to the bottom of it, whether the grumpy angel wanted him to or not.

The door to the bookshop was, unsurprisingly, locked. Shutters down as usual and no lights on but Crowley knew Aziraphale was inside, he *always* knew when the angel was near him. He murmured imprecations at the locking mechanism which obliged by letting him in, and locking again when the door swung shut.

"Oh Aziraphale!!" Crowley sung out in his most annoying manner "Get the glasses out will you, I've got some of the finest single malt and a perishing thirst" swinging a bottle in each hand he sauntered through the dark book shop, looking for his angel.

Oddly, it was dark and cold, the normally cheery fire was out, and the place felt....odd. Not deserted, so much as bereft of the usual vibrant angelic presence. And it was quiet too, no slightly scratchy vinyl playing on the gramophone, no Bach or Mozart lightly wafting throughout the shop.

Something was seriously wrong here, Crowley put down the whisky bottles, took off his sunglasses and stood in the middle of the floor, listening hard. For a long moment there was nothing, and then the faintest whimper of pain had him striding over to the high backed chairs that they often lounged in next to the fire.

Curled up in one was a tight ball of utterly miserable angel, arms tightly wrapped around his knees, rocking gently and oh so quietly (that it broke Crowleys heart just to hear it) he sobbed the tiniest whimper of complete agony. Crowley dropped to his knees with an urgent thud, causing Aziraphale to flinch and whimper "Don't! Don't touch me!"

" Oh angel" Crowley barely breathed the words " what have you done to yourself?" but he knew the answer. He knew it with the bone deep resonance of the pain he knew Aziraphale was suffering " why didn't you tell me?". A quick look at the available floorspace in the shop told him that there wasn't going to be enough, and his angel would be oh so annoyed with him if he rearranged anything.

Upstairs to the barely used flat it would have to be, but it had been years (more like decades) since the last time he was up there, so he slithered upright and strode up the stairs to check it out. The flat came with the bookstore, and sometimes Aziraphale had let it out to various tenants, and had had it modernised with the times. Hot running water and indoor flushing toilets meant a great deal to the human populace, if less so to angels and demons, though Crowley had been known to linger in a long hot shower on more than one occasion that may have involved a hangover.

It had been many small cramped rooms, but now it had one sizeable bedroom and the living space was open plan, and offered plenty of floor space. It was pretty spartan and decorated in the modern style, so quite sterile and not at all welcoming. A click of the fingers put a large open fire in the back wall with a generous fire, crackling and popping cheerfully (there hadn't been a fireplace or a chimney in that wall before then, hopefully the infrastructure would forgive him) . The walls faded to rich burgundy tones and dark wood panelling, inbuilt bookcases stuffed to overflowing with books. Heavy velvet drapes covered the windows and steaming on the hearth was a large jug of something that might have resembled mulled wine, if the alcohol content hadn't been enough to stun a horse. Crowley needed his angel drunk and very very quickly for what was about to come.

Last touch, in the middle of the floor (now covered in a layer priceless Aubusson carpets) was a large supremely comfortable mattress, buried in a deep layer of comforters. Crowley nodded, and headed downstairs, grabbing the whisky bottles on the way, he was going to need them. Snagging a crystal tumbler, he poured a generous slug of Talisker into the glass, and kneeling next to the miserable angel, he proffered the glass, just nudging it against the back of one elegantly manicured hand " Aziraphale its me, here take this, you need a drink". He waited patiently until the fingers, so tightly clenched that they had gone completely white, slowly uncurled and clasped the tumbler, raised it tremblingly to the tear stained face and a cautious sip was taken. Then another, and another and then with a groan, he swallowed the rest of the glass in two solid gulps and began to painfully uncurl.

Aziraphale held his hand out, shaking less this time, and hoarsely demanded "More!" and Crowley obliged. The tumbler was a generous size and he filled it nearly to the top, but his angel this time downed the lot in one impressive series of swallows. It was frightening to see Aziraphale treat such a fine beverage without his usual restraint and appreciation and as he filled the tumbler for the third time he murmured " Why didn't you tell me?" again as he handed it over.

Having mostly assumed a normal sitting position, if somewhat perched on the edge of the seat, Aziraphale cradled the tumbler in both hands, closed his eyes and swayed just the tiniest amount, and when he spoke his voice was a cracked whisper " I didn't know what to do Crowley..... normally I would go upstairs .... but.." and he trailed off, and Crowley finished for him " but now you aren't one of them anymore". He pursed his lips before continuing "Did you forget that we agreed that *we* are our own ssssside?" and his level of distress was such that he lost control of his sibilants, and hissed. Aziraphale flinched and looked guiltily up at him, then ducked his head to the side "No.... but....I was embarrassed to ask"

_Oh Angel_

Crowley sighed to himself before asking “how long has it been?” Aziraphale shrugged and winced and replied tiredly “oh about eight or nine hundred years or so”. Crowley hissed again and said more forcefully “how long has it been like this” and he gestured to the slightly hunched angelic form. “Oh! Yes, well about 4 weeks I think” and Aziraphale flinched slightly at the louder and more unhappy hissing that emanated from the demon.

“Four weeksssssss! You sssssuffer like this and it never occursssss to you to asssssssk me for help!!!” Crowley is thoroughly furious with his angel now, but given the fragile state Aziraphale is in, he cannot indulge it. Instead he swipes the half full tumbler of whisky, downs it in one angry swallow, grabs the other full bottle, stands up and gestures to the angel “ You, upsssssstairsssssss, now.”

Aziraphale looks up at the clearly angry and obviously implacable demon, and hesitates and begins to speak when he is cut off “No, don’t want to hear it, get your ssssssssorry angelic asssssssss upstairsssssss NOW!”   
  
His tongue has completely reverted back to serpent, and Aziraphale realises that he has reached the limits of Crowleys patience, so slowly pulls himself upright, and totters carefully up the stairs to the flat. He pauses in surprise when the new interior decorating job reveals itself, and for lack of anywhere better to be as the only furniture (so to speak) in the room is the mattress, he sits gingerly on the edge of it, letting out a quiet oooh as he sinks down into the hedonistic layers of comfort.

Angelic nostrils twitch and he murmurs appreciatively “Is that mulled wine I can smell?” Crowley crouches by the fire, miracles a couple of Russian teacups, the ones with the metal handle and frame, gorgeously decorated, and tall glass inserts, and pours each full of steaming fragrant beverage. First, handing one to the angel, and shedding his leather jacket (the heat from the fire is intense this close, even for a demon) he takes a seat next to Aziraphale and sips appreciatively on his own.  


“Drink up angel” he says, frowning at Aziraphale “You are going to need it” and with a sigh, and surprisingly, without complaint, the angel does what he is told for a change. By the time he has got to the bottom of the glass, his eyes are finally starting to glaze, and he has started to relax just the tiniest bit.  
  
Crowley finishes his wine as well, because this isn’t going to be easy on either of them, and puts the glasses aside, out of the way. He sheds his boots and socks, and slowly, carefully does the same for the angel. Without any of his usual style he clambers onto the mattress (its *very* deep and soft and not conducive to moving about on) until he is kneeling facing the fire. Aziraphale has turned to face him and he looks questioningly at Crowley “What are you doing?”   
  
Crowley sighs and points to a spot about a foot in front of him “Come here angel”, and he tilts his head and squints his eyes a bit, almost a challenge to see if Aziraphale will. The demon waits patiently, pursing his lips after a long moment, daring the angel to defy (or is it comply?). Drunk enough to be curious, Aziraphale equally inelegantly clambers to the middle of the mattress, and kneels on the appointed spot and they stare at each other for a long moment.  
  
With a huff and a sibilant sigh, Crowley reaches over and starts to unbutton the angels waistcoat. Aziraphale stiffens for a moment, and the demon pauses and they look at each other again, and the angel sighs and bows his head in compliance. Crowleys fingers deftly unbutton and remove the waistcoat and shirt (and untangle the cravat that the dapper angel was insisting on wearing regardless) until his angel is wearing only his daft camel coloured trousers.  
  
A sardonic brow twitches in amusement at the suffering he could induce by going further, but now, unfortunately is not the time. Instead he divests himself of his black silk shirt, and assorted neck adornments and the two beings assess each other for a brief moment. Crowley is lean and spare and tightly drawn, sculpted one might say, but with a tightly coiled strength. 

Aziraphale isn’t quite as chubby as his clothing makes him look, he was once a renowned warrior, and there are still echoes of that in the lines of his shoulders and arms. He told Crowley once that he remade himself for Eden as he wanted to be a friendlier face to the humans. Softening the lines of his jaw, and rounding out the hard edges still didn’t hide the dark depths his eyes were capable of. They had seen some terrible things in their time, some of which they had been responsible for. That leaves a mark, whether you have a soul or not.

The angel shuffles a bit anxiously under the stern gaze of the still pissed off demon, who raises his head to the heav…ceiling, heaves a heavy sigh of a being in great torment, and dropping his gaze back to the slightly wriggling angel, he holds his arms out “Lean on me” and he pats his right shoulder. Aziraphale starts to shuffle forward and a demonic hand on his chest holds him in place “No, you have to lean”

Aziraphale purses his mouth in a moue of irritation “But then I won’t” and he is interrupted by “be able to ressssissst by bracing” Crowley smiles a lazy twisted smirk at Aziraphale and murmurs in a tone the angel hasn’t heard before “You have to relax angel, and to do that, firsssst you musssst ssssubmit”

Aziraphale hesitates and Crowley reaches out and gently cups his jaw for a moment “You have waited too long to get help with your moult and I *know* its going to hurt. I can’t stop that, but if you trust me, I can help.” Another long moment as a pair of sky blue eyes gaze beseechingly into a pair of slitted snake eyes, and with a sigh of defeat, Aziraphale leans forward and snuggles into the proffered crook, curling his arms up underneath the demons, and cupping his hands on the slender but strong shoulders.  
  
Crowley murmurs quietly “I’m sorry angel” and brings his hands up to sweep up and down the long muscles of the angels back, as he quivers and twitches in the demons arms. He winces as the angelic fingers dig deep into his shoulders, and he adds more pressure to his sweeping movements.   
  
Angels moult their wings about once every thousand years or so, and because of the size of the wings it can be a long slow process. The wings contain innumerable nerve endings and become highly sensitised, and have to be handled extremely carefully, both to reduce the pain and also not damage the newly fledged feathers. Traditionally it would be done in a tended environment, where there were specially trained assistants. The process would often last several weeks, but the longer it was left to begin, the more painful it would be, especially at the beginning. 

Crowley had never heard of anyone waiting as long as Aziraphale had, not even the most pain loving demon would willingly endure what the angel had tortured himself with. Even demons were inordinately fond of their wings, often spent many hours grooming them. It was one of the few acceptable social activities in both Heaven and Hell, as it was impossible to properly groom your own wings. It was also an activity that had a certain level of intimacy involved as you were at your most vulnerable when exposing your wings and their care to another. It wasn’t something you took lightly when asking for help.  
  
Hence Crowleys anger at his angel’s unnecessary self torture, how could his best friend think that Crowley would not happily help with this important event. While his anger had now dropped to annoyance levels, while his hands were slowly but firmly massaging the angels back, he was hissing out a constant stream of imprecations which stuttered to a halt when the angel, snugged in the crook of his neck, unclenched his hands from their deathgrip on his shoulders, and instead hugged him. Crowley startled to stillness for a moment, as Aziraphale quietly said (into his chest) “ I’m sorry Crowley. I just didn’t know what to say” and for a moment they both hung there, wrapped in each others arms, mutually comforting each other. The moment stretched longer and longer, until Crowley, murmuring slightly different imprecations, started his hands moving, and as he felt the angel slowly begin to relax, he began to work more firmly into the back muscles.

Losing himself in the rhythm of the work, he begins to talk quietly, soothingly with utter nonsense, letting a stream of consciousness flow. Occasionally the angel would comment and be met with a “ssssshhh”.

The heat of the room, the alcohol combined with the work Crowley is doing are having an impact, Aziraphale is no longer clutching on for grim death, his breathing has deepened, and while his back is loosening up, its not quite there yet. Aziraphale is still stuck inside his head, anticipating the pain that is likely to come when he finally manifests his wings. Crowley needs to seriously distract him. But what is a demon with an armful of angel to do……..

He hisses in frustration, and his serpent tongue flickers out and dances along the edge of a pale angel neck and the angel hitches his breath and shudders for a moment.

_Well……that was interesting…_

Crowley leans back the slightest amount and does it again, and this time is rewarded by another whimper from the angel. But this one is different, this isn’t the sound of painful suffering…. Its something else. And there is a new tension in the body of the angel, its anticipation, but not combined with dread like it was before.

_“What happens if I do this?” he wonders, and letting his fangs drops down, he very light scrapes them over the same spot_

Aziraphale quivers and gasps on an indrawn breath and Crowley hisses in satisfaction, finally the angel has been sufficiently distracted. And so many interesting possibilities, what exactly can one do just with ones mouth….

_Crowley was never one to back away from a challenge… he dipped his head and laid the most delicate of kisses along the line of an angelic collarbone, slowly one by one. He followed the line of the neck, up behind the ear, lingering on a particularly sensitive spot right where the shoulder and the neck met. Something to come back to and explore…. Later._  
  
By now his angel was almost purring, almost completely relaxed, the only commentary breathless sighs and gasps and hums of contentment. Crowley was delighted, but he still hadn’t got so far as to have the wings manifest, so he kept going. 

Pulling back a bit, he cups the angels face in one hand, starting with the temple, he slowly, oh so slowly kisses his way down, along the line of the jaw, until the two of them are trembling, face to face, staring at each other with breathless intensity. Aziraphale brings a hand up to caress the side of Crowleys face and closing his eyes whispers “I want…..” Crowley smirks the tiniest amount and replies “I know” and their lips meet.

Its slow and tentative at first, but the angel is eager and greedy and Crowley is only too willing to oblige. First with a nip here, a nibble there, and then and exploratory dip of the tongue, eventually they part, both panting slightly, and Crowley opens his eyes and grins, and kisses his angel on the tip of the cute button nose “ Look behind you” and Aziraphale does, and utters a surprised “Oh, I didn’t feel a thing”

_Crowley thinks, “Oh yes you did angel” but lets a slow blink and a very satisfied smirk be the only outward expression of that thought._  
  
The angels wings are a sight, tattered with most of the primaries missing, and plenty of fluffy new feathers in desperate need of tidying up. Crowley miracles some giant throw pillows into being on the mattress, giving his angel one last kiss, moves back off the bed, arranging the pillows in front “Lie down and let me get started”

Aziraphale narrows his eyes at him, with another moue (so cute) of frustration and mutters something like “see a wile and thwart it” under his breath and lies down as directed (only after arranging, plumping, and rearranging the pillows to suit).

_Crowley is as gentle as he can be, and after a couple of hours the wings are looking much better, and he has a large pile of white and cream iridescent feathers to dispose of. In Hell they burn them, the smell is appalling but you would never notice it, and he is sure that angels do not desecrate their feathers in such a way._

He goes to ask what he should do with them and realises that his angel is soundly asleep, snoring cutely with his face buried in the mass of pillows. Oddly touched to see Aziraphale so vulnerable and relaxed in his presence, he gazes fondly for a long moment. It’s a beautiful and rare sight to see an angel with their wings fully extended, and even slightly tatty looking as they are now, its still quite glorious. So many shades of white and cream, with a gold glimmer around the edges of the primaries and flights and the faintest hint of pink and gold iridescence. 

_He must ask his angel to show him what they look like when fully fledged, it must be a stunning sight in sunlight. Or even prettier under a full moon….._

Pursing his lips on that interesting thought Crowley slithers over to his angel, and lays a scattering of butterfly kisses up his back and neck (where they aren’t covered in fluffy white feathers) until Aziraphale murmurs and stirs “mmmpffff” and Crowley says quietly “Put your wings away angel” and with a silent WHOMPF of displaced air, they disappear.  
  
Aziraphale snuggles sleepily into the pillows (angels don’t normally sleep but the energy used in moulting is such that they often do) and unexpectedly reaches out to grab one of Crowleys hands and tug his arm around the angel, muttering in a slightly outraged voice “I’m cold now”.  
  
With a smile, the demon makes his way down to the angel, spooning up against his back, bathing him in his demonic warmth (but also adding a comforter as the fire had long since started to burn its way down to embers.

Fiery red head cradled next to curly blond, and together, the angel and demon drift off into a welcome sleep.


	2. In which Crowley sets his hair on fire

Its been decades (if not centuries) since Crowley woke in the arms of a lover, so for the moment, he is startled to have company in his bed. Then his brain registers the familiar smell of his angel, and he fuzzily remembers the events of the night before (he had drunk a fair bit of the enhanced mulled wine himself in the end).

His angel is plastered to his back (soaking up the heat like a cat bathing in sunlight) with one arm wedged under one of the copious pillows, and the other clamped firmly around Crowley’s chest. For just one delicious moment, the demon allows himself a grin of utter satisfaction. Not only did he sort out his angels wings, but he finally got the adorable blond bundle of cuteness into bed.

_He closed his eyes and revelled in the memory of the kisses, how eagerly the angel had responded under his touch._

Crowley hoped this morning wouldn’t be filled with lots of polite awkwardness and regret, he wasn’t sure how they would both handle that. Especially as the angel’s wings were still going to need many more days of work, and that level of physical intimacy would be even more difficult if he was going ….odd …. about this change in their relationship.

A sleepy and oh so familiar voice said quietly behind him “I can hear you thinking from here” in a tone of disgruntlement of someone being woken unexpectedly from a particularly sound sleep. Given that angels sleep so rarely, he did sound particularly peeved. Crowley wriggled around until the were face to face, close enough for a kiss but far enough away to allow some personal space if required “Morning” he said softly “How are you feeling?”.  
  
Aziraphale closed his eyes, and wriggled in a highly distracting manner for a long moment, ending up with his chest resting against the demons, stretching up til his face was so close their lips were almost touching. Crowley held his breath as his armful of cuddly angel opened a pair of surprisingly sultry blue eyes and breathed out “Oh I’m feeling *so* much better, thanks”.

_Oh Dear L…..G……fuck!_

The amount of effort it takes to restrain himself from this rather blatant invitation makes his eyes cross, and tiny flames flicker on the tips of his hair (neither of them notice). He stares down at the angel quivering in his arms, and asks (voice only trembling the slightest amount) “What are you doing?”

Aziraphale smiles the most smug satisfied expression the demon has ever seen, nothing he ever expected to see on the angelic face and surprised him so much that he didn’t quite register the reply to his question “I think your side call it Temptation into Sin. Is it working?”

_This… this was NOT what he was expecting for this morning… at all!_

Crowley gathered his resources, he was the demon here, and supposed to be the one *experienced* at this whole sin and temptation business and mustered one of his trademark sneers (not his best effort but given the circumstances) and he snarled lazily “Oh you want to be ravished, do you…. (and he paused for a long speaking moment as they stared into each others eyes and finished up with) …angel?”   
  
_It was supposed to come out as a threat, but in the end it sounded more like a caress_

But his plucky angel didn’t back down at all, reaching up a hand to trace down the side of the demons face, cupping his jaw and tracing a thumb lightly across his lips, blue eyes glinting dangerously as he murmured “Yes my darling demon, I *was* rather hoping you would” and he sealed his lips to Crowley’s, effectively stopping any further conversation.

_His hair sparked and flamed even brighter on the tips, until inevitably it set fire to the pillows. Much hilarity ensued with the dregs of the mulled wine being used to put out the burning bedding, drenching an outraged demon in the face, and an apologetic angel alternating between licking the wine off his face and offering apologetic kisses._

  
Damaged soaked pillows are discarded, but there are plenty left, and Crowley reclines back with his angel snuggled up under one arm, idly tracing arcane symbols on his chest with one finger. The angelic ones sting a bit but he doesn’t mind. Aziraphale muses “Does that normally happen?”

Crowley, utterly distracted and not paying any attention beyond the delights that were happening on his chest replies “What? Does what normally happen?”

“When you ….ravish… someone? Does your hair normally set itself on fire?”

“Nope, its a new one on me” and he huffs a snort of amusement “Haven’t been ravished yet, angel”

A long silence then “What have I been then?”  
  
Crowley sighs and gently lifts the elegantly manicured hand off his chest, brings it to his mouth and presses an old fashioned kiss to the knuckles. He then turns it over and lightly sweeps his tongue over the most sensitive spots along the wrist, here and there while the angel inhales and trembles the tiniest amount. He works his way up the thumb, and circles his human tongue around the tip of it, before dipping his head to close his mouth, sealing the tip of the thumb within the circle of his lips.  
  
Slowly, oh so slowly, he slides his mouth down, until the whole thumb is firmly encased in his hot liquid embrace, and he swirls his tongue around and around as he, even more slowly pulls his mouth back, sucking just a little bit harder the further back he goes, until with an audible pop the thumb is released.  
  
Aziraphale is trembling, his eyes closed and lips parted, with a look of almost seraphic joy on his face and Crowley murmurs “What you have been, angel, is thoroughly kissed. What you *are* being, is seduced. This will eventually lead to complete and utter ravishment. Do I have your permission to continue?”

Aziraphale swallowed and said “Oh God yes” and with a tut tut Crowley put a finger on his lips “You can’t use the G word here, my dearest”. When the angel opened his eyes with a look of confusion, the demon pointed skywards and said “You have a direct line, and if you use the G word too often….. well, she might ‘pay attention’”

With a look of horrified realisation Aziraphale stuttered wordlessly, until Crowley took pity on him and swooped in for a kiss “Never mind angel, I will just have to keep that mouth of yours…….occupied”

_He would wait til later to bring up the suggestion of a gag…._


	3. In which revelations are had

You can do a lot with a mouth, a pair of hands and a willing partner and Crowley had been careful to keep the action happening above the waist. Eventually the moment came when they both made full body contact together, and two highly sensitised parts of their anatomy came into contact with external pressures.  
  
While angels and demons are inherently sexless, they both presented as full human males, mostly because it made the clothes fit better and stopped any odd questions from tailors (and dressmakers on the odd occasion Crowley went about as a woman). So all the equipment was there and potentially fully functional, but unless you actively engaged with that part of the brain and activated all the appropriate chemicals and endorphins, in the angelic sense it was essentially dormant.  
  
Crowley had learned to switch on and off the appropriate responses as necessary, but it had been a very long time for him, and so the both of them froze as their brains overloaded with unexpected sensory overload.  
  
Aziraphale was draped full length across him, but he was twitching and squirming about in a VERY distracting fashion. Crowley hissed in exasperation, bought both hands down, grabbed some plump angel bum and held him firmly still “Stop wriggling for heavens sake!”

_Oh, Oh this is going to be interesting, now they are firmly pressed against each other, and its doing some rather peculiar things to the angels composure_

Crowley watches with growing amusement as his angels eye first glaze over completely, and then as he submits to the pressure to keep still, and relax into the sensation, begin to cross. Crowley is concerned that critical neural paths might overload, so he takes pity, and gently rolls the both of them over, giving his now hoarsely panting angel a much needed sensory reprieve.

_The fact that he had chewed the inside of his mouth to shreds to keep his own responses under control is something that no one else *ever* need to know about, as he healed the damage repeatedly until he had his own breath back. A cautious hand rubbed some sparks out of the tips of his hair, G…. Random Deity only knew how the heaven he was supposed to deal with that happening again, or why it was even happening now?_

Aziraphale groaned and poked Crowley in the ribs “Why do I have a sudden desire to get seriously drunk right now?”. Crowley waved the half full whisky bottle from downstairs into his hand, unscrewed the cap and took a generous swig straight from the neck, before handing to his angel. Aziraphale blinked at him with a questioning look and Crowley responded “Alcohol lowers your inhibitions, relaxes you and takes the edge off” he paused for a long moment before rather carefully choosing his words “Makes encountering a new experience for the first time easier”

Blue eyes widen in understanding and they pass the bottle back and forward, Crowley making it look like he was drinking more than he was. The level in the bottle didn’t reduce significantly but the angel got blurrier and blurrier.

“Demon” he said with the intense urgency of the drunk “ You. I. We. Are wearing too many clothes” Crowley didn’t disagree but he wanted to play this out the right way “What do you want me to do about it, angel?” Aziraphale vaguely waved his hand in the air and went “pffft yanno”.

“Pffft?” questioned Crowley and Aziraphale nodded agreement “pffft dishappear thingy”

_Oh his angel was so cute when he relaxed out of the stuffy somewhat anxiety ridden do gooder persona. So many of the angels Crowley had known had been completely utter bastards, in their own unique way, yet Aziraphale had maintained that core of innocent purity to the cause and the Ineffable Plan that it quite messed with his head. When he let go of what he ‘thought’ he should be and just ‘was’ he was so delightful._

“Alright” Crowley agreed and clicked his fingers and suddenly they were both completely naked under the rather rumpled comforter. That reminded him, and a second click of the fingers replenished the fireplace with fresh logs and got a hot fire well under way. That comforter wasn’t going to hang around for long, he suspected.

Aziraphale slowly adjusted to the new sensations he was now feeling and Crowley could see him start to sober up just a little, things were starting to get all kinds of real for the angel now, and they were teetering on a precipice of new experiences.

Crowley waited, letting his angel adjust and wasn’t surprised when he reached out with a gentle hand, and asked breathlessly “Can I…..?” Crowley rearranged himself to be more comfortable and accessible, pulling his angel down for a kiss “Of course, just….be gentle”  
  
_Oh the accusatory glance from his angel, that he would dare be anything but, he had fire this one. Crowley had always suspected his angel had hidden depths, that he wasn’t the kind bumbling slightly clueless idiot he often gave the impression of being. No one who managed Gabriel as well as he had over the centuries could be quite as dumb as he had made out._  
  
With utter care and a certain amount of reverence, Aziraphale drew back the comforter, so that the demon was displayed in all his glory. The angels gaze went up and down and up again and quietly asked “So this is…normal… then?” Crowley manfully restrained a smirk and pointed discussions about normal and gestured back to the angel “Yes you can see for yourself”  
  
Aziraphale appeared to have completely forgotten about his own body, being entranced with novelty of the demon in front of him, and startled back to awareness. His gaze darted between the demons obviously aroused state, and his less so, and gestured in confusion “But yours is (and he gestured with his hand) and mine is (another gesture)”

Crowley laughed a low dark snigger and gathered his angel into his arms “Can fix that angel, its a rather flexible state of being”

_This time he put hands and mouth to full use, slowly guiding his angel along the path well beyond Temptation and fully into Sin territory. Aziraphale was an eager student, willing to both listen and learn, yet brave enough to venture into new territory by himself as well._

_In the end they were both thoroughly ravished, one from the teaching and one from the learning._

As they lay there, nestled in the mound of pillows, Crowley idly playing his fingers through the blond curls tucked against his shoulder, he smiled. On such a sharply cut and elegant face, finished with the startling serpent eyes, it was a remarkably tender smile.

“Crowley” said his angel in a tone of disgruntlement “Why did it take six thousand years for us to do this?”

The smile faded as he thought through the implications of his answer and he took a deep breath before replying “Well, my love, its possible that sometimes you have to almost lose everything you have so that you can see what really matters”

“Mmmpff” his angel muttered muzzily “I like this sleeping business, its much more fun when there is someone to share it with”

“I know angel, I know”.

Together they slept.

_And the slight glowing radiance that had bathed the room, unnoticed, brightened for just a moment and in the silence that lingered, the faintest whisper of a female voice saying “Bless You” might have just been heard._


End file.
